Alfaaz
by icedcoffeepanda
Summary: A collection of drabbles prompted by Urdu words. Non linear, Mostly unrelated, Mostly AU. Title translates to "word/words"


This has been on ao3 for quite some time now, thought I'd post it here as well.

* * *

 ** _Noor_** _– radiance_

He dreamt of that night – the very first time he saw the castle hall in all its glory. It was spectacular, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Bright torches lined up every corner of the foyer. Despite being pitch dark outside, the lights inside the room seemed blinding to a boy who'd grown up under the canopy of the trees and the sky.

The very first time he'd seen _her._

He couldn't take his eyes off her, she looked like a mythical creature from one of those stories come to life - those exaggerated, unrealistic, fantastical stories the village elders recounted to amuse children on harvest nights.

As she walked past the crowd, which seemed to instinctively part for her, he couldn't help but wonder if it was really the torches, or the radiance of her beauty that lit up the hall that night.

* * *

 _ **Sukoon**_ _– peace_

He was sitting on the steps leading up to the castle. It had been barely been weeks since the entire ordeal in Ealdor. He hadn't gotten a moment's peace since he'd come back. As soon as he'd stepped back in Camelot, Merlin had to slip back into the mask of a servant, everyone seemed to have forgotten and he pretended to as well.

He felt, rather than saw someone come and sit next to him. It was only when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder that he realised that he'd started crying. He hastily wiped at his eyes upon realising who it was and turned to her, "Milady-"

"Don't, Merlin. No need to explain. I understand when someone is grieving. Just, let me sit next to you, is that alright?"

For some reason, her voice soothed him. That was all he needed, some one to understand, even if just for a moment.

"Of course, Morgana."

* * *

 _ **Lehja**_ _– pronunciation, way of speaking_

"Thank you, Merlin."

He loved the way she said his name, for some reason. She had a slightly different accent; it seemed to be the one thing she kept from her old life before Camelot. The one thing she refused to let the royal court change. Others found it odd, thought little of it. But he liked it, found it charming, even.

But he didn't know if it was the accent, or something else, but the way his name rolled off her tongue, was laced with gratitude, familiarity, affection and a hint of... something. Something he couldn't quite place. It made those two syllables echo in his mind moments after they leave her mouth.

* * *

 _ **Taabiir**_ _– interpretation of dreams_

It was the first dream of its kind she remembered having had since she was a child. Or since ever, probably.

She didn't remember any images. It was so unlike her usual vivid, destructive dreams. All she could recall was the sound of the sea, and the strong saline scent she recalled from her childhood memories. But there was something, someone else. A warm presence, somehow both strange and familiar. She couldn't see anything, but could feel herself wrapped in someone's arms, standing contentedly, feeling loved and happy.

The dream ended with a flash of blue turning to bright orange.

* * *

 _ **Sifar**_ _– nothingness_

He's standing in the middle of a desert. He didn't know where.

He just started walking and didn't stop. Didn't look back. Didn't know how far he'd come. Didn't care.

There seemed to be nothing for miles. Just an endless spiral of nothingness. Or perhaps a void. Just like his heart. He had no king, no kingdom anymore. The legacy of Arthur and Guinevere died with them. Camelot fell soon after. He did nothing to stop it. Why would he? Those who came after meant nothing to him.

It was then, as he finally stops walking and falls to the ground that he feels himself disconnect. He thinks, perhaps, that his curse finally over. Maybe the goddess has decided to show mercy upon him. Maybe his dues are finally paid. His eyes begin to close when he sees a fleeting glimpse of her.

It's like someone toppled a whole bucketful of water over him. He found the strength to sit up and rub his eyes. She's standing there, just staring at him.

He started to walk towards her, and just as he was about to touch her, so close, he's _so, so close._

Gone.

There was nothing there.

* * *

 _ **Aafreen**_ _\- Allure/Enchanting beauty_

How was it possible for someone to be this beautiful? To be blessed with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess?

The people admired her when she was the picture of perfection. Perfectly put together, poised, elegant and having no more than a few diplomatic facial expressions.

But Merlin knew better. She may look to be all softness and curves and grace but her eyes held a ferocity like no other. Every emotion she felt seemed to roll off her in waves that engulfed all those around her. If she was happy, her smile lit up the room and her laughter could lift anyone's spirits. If she was angry the windows appeared to shake with the power of her rage. And if she was sorrowful the flowers seemed to shrink with along with her spirits.

And that is what he loved most about her. What made her beautiful more than her physical loveliness ever could.

* * *

 _ **Inaayat**_ _\- Concern_

She wouldn't tell anyone, but she fantasized that she would be held and kissed fiercely when she came to. That he would hold her and tell her he loved her over and over again, that he was beyond grateful she's alright.

A tad corny and dramatic, sure. But that's precisely why she had called it a fantasy.

Whilst she didn't actually expect Merlin to do all that, she certainly didn't expect him to behave as he was now.

"Your soup. I'll leave it on the bedside table. Eat up." He said dispassionately and turned to leave. But she wouldn't let him run away anymore, she wanted answers, and she wanted them now.

"What the hell is the matter?" She demanded, grabbing his hand to prevent him from leaving. "You don't speak more than three sentences at a time, you can't even look me in the eyes, and you haven't touched me since I woke up." She paused, realising he was upset and tried to lighten her interrogation. "I was stabbed, Merlin. I don't have the plague." She snorted.

"If you're done brushing off your near-death experience as a joke, Milady, I'd like to take my leave now. I have places to be." His voice quivered a bit, and he still refused to meet her eyes.

"Is this why you're angry?" Morgana furrowed her eyebrows. "You're acting as If I got hurt on purpose. What would you rather I'd done? Let my sister die? Let my vision come true?"

"You went there without telling me!" Merlin exclaimed, finally turning towards her. "You couldn't have waited until I got back and we could have gone together. I could have protected you. But no, you insist on doing the opposite of what anyone asks you to do!"

Morgana willed herself from getting angry too (it was no easy feat) when she heard the desperate concern that was almost masked with the rage in his voice.

"If I'd waited it could have been Morgause in this state, perhaps even worse. I thought killing Cenred would eliminate the threat, but I was wrong. I'm not going to apologize for protecting my sister, Merlin." That dream, that damned dream wouldn't leave her alone and she knew, she just knew something unspeakable would have happened had she not shown up. She stabbed Cenred before he could do the same to Morgause but failed to notice one of his guards closing in. A sword to the stomach by a pathetic foot soldier. She was glad she hadn't died of it. Well, she was glad she hadn't died, period. But that would have been an especially humiliating way to die.

"Even if it nearly took your life?" Merlin's heart-wrenching voice broke her out of her thoughts. She knew now was probably not the best time to bring it up but she couldn't have him accuse her of something he did nearly everyday.

"How many times do you do the same for Arthur? Do you have any idea what it does to me when you go on those deadly quests with him?" She turned the tables on him, because it wasn't as if he didn't get himself into life-threatening situations everyday for someone who didn't even fully recognize nor appreciate his dedication.

There was a long pause as Merlin realised she had him there. Still, "That's different, it's my destiny, It's my job. But you- had a choice." It was true. His life wasn't his own anyway. His purpose was to serve and protect Arthur. Morgana had no such obligation.

"She's my sister, Merlin. I didn't." He couldn't argue with that. So all he did was confess the one thing that had been weighing on his ever since he saw her lying covered in blood, nearly lifeless. The horrible image was unlikely to disappear from his mind anytime soon.

"I don't know- I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. I can't lose you, Morgana. I can't. Please try not to do anything like that ever again."

Morgana nodded in understanding before planting a kiss on the hand she'd been holding."

"I will. Now do I or do I not get a kiss for nearly dying?" That prompted a watery smile from the warlock as he bent down to kiss his lover with all the passion and emotion that he'd kept buried over the past week.

* * *

 _ **Lihaaz**_ _– Respect_

The very first minute of him being in Camelot, Uther Pendragon had proved himself to be a loathsome human being. But nothing compared to when the heartless tyrant had the audacity to refuse his desperate mother, who had been on her knees, begging the king to help their little village.

Then Morgana had stepped forward, her eyes mirroring the same rage and disgust he was sure reflected in his. And she did what nobody, not even he himself had thought to do in that moment. She bent down and helped his mother up, before walking away with an arm around her, shielding her from the humiliation that she would have otherwise felt if she had to walk alone.

Before then, he couldn't have imagined that respect was an emotion that could be felt so strongly.

* * *

 _ **Ikhtiyaar**_ _– Power_

"She's grown very powerful. I'm starting to fear she might soon surpass me at this rate."

Gaius shook his head at his ward's naivete. "You underestimate yourself, Merlin. No one can ever do that. Not even Morgana, no matter how powerful she gets."

With that, Gaius retired to bed, worried that his ward had let fear seep in after his latest encounter with the sorceress.

Merlin knew his mentor was concerned about how Morgana had somehow managed to counter his spell with hers.

What he didn't tell Gaius, was the odd rush of thrill he felt when she had done that. In all his experience with magical creatures and witches alike, he'd never felt anything like her magic. It felt like it was repelling and calling to him at the same time. The shock of their powers intermingling was something he was sure they both had felt. He shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Being fascinated with your sworn enemy was a recipe for disaster, and Camelot didn't need any more of those.

That didn't stop him from dreaming about her that night.

* * *

 _A/N : There will likely be more entries to this, depending on whenever I find time. I've started this series as a little exercise to help with my writer's block. As a Hindi speaker, I've always loved Urdu and think that it's a gorgeous language. So this idea had been floating around in my mind for a while, I'm glad I finally got around to writing it. Reviews are love 3_


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